Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2006 14:37:14 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee
Subject: Muscle Jocks For Domination 04
The following story is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to
accurately depict, nor reflect upon persons in towns,
cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is
staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then you should not read
this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of
age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed
to read this story by law. This is fiction. Do not
forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety
matter'; got condom?
"Muscle Jocks For Domination" 04
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"So, Steve, can you give me a clue to why your briefs
had a wet spot?"
Clue? Sure, Steve could give Mr. Verraros a clue, but
he'd much rather give him the big picture. However, he
stuck to the tidbit, the matter requested, for now.
Rather lost for words though, he replied, "I'm not
sure, Mr. Verraros."
"Not sure, Steve. Oh come on. You can do better than
that," Steve's team boss replied.
Going to the door, Max Verraros turned the key, the
deadbolt slipped into place, sequestering the two away
in the board room. Realizing he still kneeled on the
carpeting, in front ot the chair Michael O'Hanlon sat
in, Steve began to rise.
"No, don't bother getting up, Steve," the boss' hand
gestured for the employee to stay put.
"No?"
Picking up one of the last of the muffins, from the
mahogany table, Verraros took a seat, formerly
occupied by O'Hanlon. Steve watched, as the muffin was
placed on the table.
"Tell you what, Steve. Stop me if I'm wrong, but I bet
I the reason why the front of your briefs, the part
with the bulging cock, showed the shiny leak from your
hard shaft is that you want to taste more than the
muffin?"
Pretty much the description, without much detail
needed, Steve sensed his team boss already had thing
figured out, in general. He didn't say anything, as he
watched the belt buckle being unlatched, the button of
the expensive Parisi suit pants undone, a sound not
too different from his own, when Verraros unzipped.
Bracing his back against the swivel chair and
pressuring his feet on the floor, the exec lifted his
torso so that his pants would clear his butt. Steve's
eyebrows showed off his surprise of what was unfolding
before him.
"Now, Steve," Verraros questioned, holding the peeled
back muffin above the `v' of his legs, "how about
eating one last muffin?"
"Well, I am kind of full, sir. My stomach...."
Shocked, Steve watched, as the twenty-eight year old
exec pulled open the elastic of his briefs, dropping
the muffin in, then letting the elastic waistband snap
closed, trapping the fat free blueberry muffin inside.
"Eat that last cupcake, Steve and then you can go
about your business."
"But..."
With his hands still clutched together behind his
back, Steve licked his lips. It wasn't the muffin he
was hungry for though.
"Here, why don't I make it easier for you, Steve."
With both thumbs inside the elastic, Max Verraros
pulled his briefs away from the hairy transition of
trail and pubes. Steve eyes bugged out, as he peered
inside, seeing the yellow muffin, with purple spots,
nestled next to the rather long, swollen piece of
meat. Crumbs integrated with the thick, brown-haired
bush.
"Tell you what, Steve..."
"What," Steve gulped, "Mr. Verraros?"
"Give you a choice. Now I know you've had several
muffins and by now your stomach must be feeling a
little sick. Either you can eat the muffin, or.... Pick
something else out to munch on?"
"Something else?"
"Yes, Steve. Now, what else between my legs looks
appetizing to you?"
Steve's concave posture made it easy for him to peer
over the edge of the held out briefs.
"Here, why don't I make it easier for you, Steve."
The young exec lifted the muffin out, setting it on
the table.
"There, now that limits it to either my cock or balls.
Which will it be, Steve? Hurry and pick now or I'll
have to pick for you."
"Um, why don't you pick, Sir?"
"Very well."
Then Steve's attention was bowled over, as Max
Verraros lifted the front of his briefs over the
pocket of his 11c, anchoring the Hugo Boss low rise
briefs under his well endowed sacs, which hung down
from the nice sized shaft, pointing at Steve's lower
extremities. Tightening at the base of Verraros' orbs,
made his sacs seem larger than life. Leaving the
freedom of choice to the team boss exec, he took his
11c in his hand, the flat of his hand now separating
the sausage from the meatballs, holding it as if on a
platter, ready to serve up.
"Still hungry Steve?"
Steve's body caved in a bit more, as he leaned
forwards. With each comment Verraros makes, Steve
gazes up into his handsome face, taking in those hot,
Italian features.
"C'mon, I know you want it. Don't you Steve?"
With his lips slightly ajar, a drip of saliva falls
from Steve's mouth. Eyes still affixed on the exec,
his head lowers, mouth widening, tip of the tongue
extended. Now, with eyes on the prize, Steve falls
over all the way, going for the juicy sausage.
"Mmmmmmmm..." Steve moans.
With his mouth surrounding the `office god's' long,
thick shaft, Steve closes his eyes, savoring the tasty
meal. Max Verranos' hands go to the back of his own
head, arching his back, thrusting his pelvis forwards
as he enjoys Steve's talents.
"Oh yeah. Swirl that tongue around'n'round, Steve.
Feels so nice."
A few moments into the hot blowjob, Steve, hands still
clasped behind his back, feels his necktie being
loosened. As Max bends over, his chest presses against
Steve, enclosing the act of oral sex. For now, Steve
is contented with getting what he wants, so he's not
intimidated with Verranos' efforts to get what he
intends. With the shirt now free of the tie, Steve is
told to cease his actions.
"Let's get you out of that sloppy shirt, Steve."
With the tip of the giant on Steve's lips, he looks up
at his boss.
"Okay," Steve replies, dropping the log, as he sits
back on his heels.
"Now is that anyway to show respect to your `master',
Steve?"
A zillion little tingles rush Steve's senses.
"Sorry sir."
"I'm not a man without compassion, so I'll let it
slide this time, Steve."
"Okay... I mean yes, sir... I mean master," Steve replies,
flustered.
"The shirt?"
"Oh sure," the twenty-five year old replies.
Quickly fingering the buttons, all the way down,
pulling his shirt from his pants, removing it and
tossing it on the mahogany board table, Steve then
waits for further instruction. Sitting back in his
chair, Verranos senses Steve glancing at his hairy
pits. He stashes that info away for another time.
"The position, Steve?"
"Oh sure.. yes Sir."
Without hesitation, Steve moves his hands from his
thighs to behind his back.
"Now, next time you strip off your shirt, Steve, I'll
expect it done in the correct manner. You will first
remove your shoes and socks, then pants, then shirt.
Do you understand that directive, Steve?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why don't' we see if you can follow through on that
point, Steve?"
"Sir?" Steve looks up, inquisitively.
"Take your shirt, put it back on, the tie, tuck it in,
`properly'."
"Yes, Sir."
Whipping the white shirt from the table, Steve stuffs
his arms back inside. Intent with buttoning it
correctly, he makes the special effort to match up
things. As per his humiliation experience, Steve opens
his pants, tucks the shirt-tail in, all the way
around, zips up, then places his tie around his neck.
Tying it, he smooths it down his chest. It's then he
realizes the thin part of the necktie is longer than
the front, thick part.
"Ooops!"
Reaching down, taking the tie in one hand, the exec
pulls up on the multi-colored fashion-piece.
"Now, it's things like this that will give you
demerits, Steve."
"Demerits, sir?"
Letting go of the tie, Max replies, "Go in the back,
left pocket of my pants, Steve."
"Your pants, Sir?"
Not saying anything, Max Verraros relaxes in the
chair, arms on the railings. Steve takes the nonreply
as `yes'. It turns him on to pick up the boss' pants,
holding the fabric that enclosed his torso, in his
hands.
"After you retrieve the little black book, Steve, you
may fold my slacks nicely and place them on the
table."
"Yes, sir."
Producing the item, Steve hands it to his superior.
Next, at the best of his abilities, he folds up the
fine fabric, placing it nicely on the table. As he
turns, to return to the specific position, he sees
Verranos writing in the little black book.
Holding it up so that Steve can view it's contents, he
explains, "As you can see Steve, I've already noted,
this isn't the first time you've forgotten to shave?"
"Um," feeling up the stubble, thinking back, Steve
confirms, "right, sir."
In the little black `demerit' book, Steve sees a page
with his name on it, dated. Next to the line that
says, `sloppy ^Ö shave', is a number `10'.
"What does the ten mean?"
"Did I give you permission to speak, Steve?"
"No. Do I need it?"
With a frustrated look, Verraros, shaking his head,
turns the book towards himself.
Naming the offense outloud, he writes,
"Insubordination, 10 demerits."
"What does that mean?"
Taking the eraser, he mars out the `10' and writes in
`20', answering, "Twenty demerits. Shall I raise it to
thirty or are you going to start behaving, Steve?"
Steve didn't know whether this was a game of roleplay
or `what', but the twitching in his pants told him he
was enjoying it immensely. He kept his mouth shut,
figuring that had been the cause of the up in
demerits.
"That's better. Now, why don't you stand up and show
me the proper means by which you strip off that shirt,
Steve?"
He knew now not to open his mouth to say anything. So,
complying with direction, Steve rose up off his knees.
Immediately he began unknotting his tie.
"Whoaaa... slow down, Steve. Take it easy. Enjoy
stripping off your clothes for me."
Or was it the other way around? Taking up his leisure
pose, Verranos clasped his hands behind his head and
started to take in the boardroom pleasure of watching
Steve remove his clothing.
"No, the pants first?"
"Oh yeah," Steve said out loud, then followed with,
"Oops," knowing he wasn't suppose to utter a word.
Shaking his head, Verranos picked up the little black
demerits book and began using the eraser.
Completing the uppage in demerits rather quickly, the
exec turned his attention back to the office
striptease.
"That's right. Nice and slow, Steve."
As if doing it mutually, both had strained briefs,
Steve balanced on the edge of the table, lifting one
foot to unlace the right dress shoe.
"C'mon now, Steve. A worked body like that and you
can't balance yourself?"
"Um, can I say something?"
"You may."
Sensing a bit of pride, for going through the correct
channel, in order to achieve speaking rights, Steve
congratulated himself in the fact that his boss didn't
reopen the little black book.
"Sometimes I do have a problem with balance."
"Have you had any core training on the ball?"
With tongue in cheek, Steve wondered if he meant the
balls between his legs or.....
"Um, no sir," he picked the more logical answer.
"I'll add that to your workout regiment, then."
"My workout regiment, sir?"
"We'll talk about that in a moment Steve. Get on with
the stripping."
"Yes, sir."
Max relaxed body, but not vision, as he watched Steve
remove his socks. Trying to do it without leaning on
the table, Steve almost fell on his face.
"Absolutely pitiful!"
Steve smiled, thinking the way Verraros said it.
"Oh, so you think I'm joking , Steve?"
"No, sir."
"Don't fucking lie to me!"
The twenty-five year olds lips rounded in an `o'
position. Now he knew the seriousness of the matter,
when his superior had to raise the tone of his voice,
plus use a modern explicative.
"Sorry, sir."
"Believe me, Steve. You will be," opening the black
book, he wrote and announced at the same time, "10
more demerits for insubordination and 25 for lying."
"That's 35? I said I was sorry," Steve complained.
Hands on his almost bare hips, bare after opening his
dress pants, holding one side in a hand, while the
other sagged to his thighs.
Closing the black book sharply, Verraros tells him
right off, "Listen Steve, if you don't like the way I
discipline, you can put your clothes back on and get
the hell out of here."
"But...."
"I don't want to hear any of your crap, Steve. If
you're not interested in working here, then the door's
that way," Verraros pointed with his thumb, over his
shoulder. "I'm moving you into the next phase of your
training here. If you're not interested, then don't
waste my time."
Steve stood there. A sane person might have taken the
advice offered and clear out, not wanting to endure
the guff handed to him. However, instead of taking
things personally, one reason attributing to his
bulging briefs, dictating a clear message that he
liked the domination of Max Verraros, the way in which
he spelled things out, well, if made his decision a
strong one, not to get dressed and head for the exit.
"Well, what's it going to be, Steve?"
Like back in grade school, Steve raises his free hand,
not the one that still has his dress slacks perched at
his hip.
"Permission to speak again...um, sir?"
"Permission granted," Verraros acknowledged, calming,
as he sensed he wasn't losing Steve.
"Now don't take this wrong, but when I was hired here,
I didn't think I'd be going through stuff like this
and...."
With a quick smile, one that dictates a sly demeanor,
Verraros reached forwards, faster than Steve can
dismiss, his thumb and index finger scooping some of
the fresh goo from the low rise black briefs.
"I suppose you're going to tell me that you don't
think it's fair?"
"Well, I..."
Rubbing the pre-cum, between his digits in a most
notable fashion, "That you're opposed to my
techniques?"
"Um, well..."
"That you're not `enjoying' this possibly, Steve?"
Steve didn't have a leg to stand on. Not the kind that
you lose your balance, but rather the teetering of
words. Steve couldn't draw support against any of the
options spelled out.
"Now, Steve, I'm going to judge your answer by your
actions. Either you can keep stripping down for `me'
or suit up and leave. Plus, I want to hear it from you
that you want to stay employed here."
Steve raised his eyebrows.
After the short pause, he replied, "Yeah, I'd like to
stay employed here."
"And you agree to my methods of discipline?"
"Yeah, okay."
"Doesn't sound so reassuring Steve. If you really want
something, you go after it with aggression `and' what
happened to the respect?"
Taking a deep breath, as if working on his cardio,
Steve replies, "I really want to keep working here.
I'll accept any method you deem necessary to turn me
into a good... no, into a superior worker and I'll try
to adhere by the rules you set before me, sir."
"Try, Steve? No. You've got to do better than that,
but I'm not going to hold that to you at this moment.
Trying means failure and yes, you will fail, but
you'll learn through your failures and that's where
the discipline comes in. What I'm going to ask you
lastly here, Steve, will you submit to whatever
punishment is necessary to turn you into a model
employee."
"Punishment, sir?"
"Yes, Steve. For now you've seen what humiliation can
render, however as we move on in training, reprimands
could become more intense."
"Can you give me an idea of what that entails, sir? I
mean, you don't mean physically?"
"Steve, do you think writing out a hundred times `I
will not disobey', will get you anywhere?"
Letting out a short giggle, Steve dummied up real
quick, recalling that this wasn't a comedy sitcom.
"No, sir."
"Steve, you wouldn't be the first, nor the last of a
line of men that have come and gone through the ranks
here. Don't think that you will be the only man that
has experienced physical stress, in order to learn, to
build up your own strengths."
"What I meant, sir, is you're not going to... well, do
stuff to me, sir."
"Stuff, Steve? Can you elaborate on what you
envision?"
At this point, to Steve, it didn't really matter. All
along, he sensed the dominant attitude of his team
leader. Not wanting to look at his own briefs, nor
would it matter, since probably Verraros had seen more
pre-cum production, Steve resigned to the fact,
whatever happened, happened. He figured if things got
rough, he could always back out of the program. Yeah,
how would they make him stay?
"Never mind, sir. I accept the way.... Your program is
structured," Steve resorted to term it.
"Fine." Looking at his watch, Verraros reported, "Well
I do have a meeting in a half hour, Steve. All of
these things that have promoted your demerits, have
made us run out of time for today. Damn, I had hoped
to get so much farther with you today, Steve."
Getting up enough courage, Steve admits, "I'm sorry
that I've wasted your time, Sir. I wish there was a
way I could make it up."
"I do set goals for getting employees on course, to
achieve goals. After our meeting this afternoon,
perhaps..."
"Oh, that's another thing......sir?"
Verraros picks up the little black book off his lap,
opens it and uses his eraser. It was on the tip of his
tongue, to ask `what for'.
"10 more demerits for insubordination. You will learn
not to interrupt me, Steve. However, since you have,
what is so immediate that it couldn't wait for me to
finish my though?"
"Well, you see sir, I have this prior obligation and I
need to be out of here by two forty-five."
"And what would this be that is more important than
being at an important meeting with your fellow team
members?"
The way in which Verraros dictated the question, made
Steve feel like crap that he had to miss it, but then
the explanation gave him more fortitude, as the good
deed he would be doing.
"You see, I met this kid at the donut shop today."
"Kid? How old?"
"I'm not sure. Eighteen or nineteen."
"Oh? And did he pick you up or you him?"
"Now, pardon my French sir, but I don't think that's
fuckin' fair?"
Out of everything that's taken place, nothing pissed
Steve off more than what `sir' had just presented to
him. In fact, he felt so strong about his statement,
Steve didn't care if he got a fuckin' five thousand
demerits for saying it!
"Lucky for you Steve that I don't know French.
Alright, I'm excusing you from the meeting this
afternoon."
"You are?"
After saying what he did and the `French word' known
meaning, as clearly as `French fries', he figured
Verraros' eraser would become very busy.
Not apologizing, rather moving on, the team exec
offered, "How is your evening structured, Steve?"
"Oh, it's going to be another great evening, after I
drop Raavi off at his place."
"Raavi, is it?"
"Yes. I met him this morning. He works at the donut
shop. Nice kid."
"Hmm... he's in his late teens and works selling
donuts?"
"He goes to college part time. Says he can't afford
going full time."
"What is he working towards?"
"A bachelor's in business management or something
related."
"Hmm... seems like you got a lot out of him for just
meeting him, Steve?"
"Small talk. You know how it is."
"That I do. Too much small talk can make an employees
late to work, without realizing it, right Steve?"
Seeing the conversation had begun to subside from the
serious side a bit, yet feeling still on his guard,
Steve said, "Yes, sir. I agree. Totally my fault. I
should have watched the time... been more aware."
"So, after you drop...is it Robby?"
"Raavi, sir. R-A-A-V-I, Raavi Omparkash."
"Yes, after you drop Raavi off, then what are your
plans for the evening?"
Replying with a lite fare of words, not meant to be
sarcastic, Steve replied, "heading home, flick on the
TV, head to the kitchen for last night's leftovers
that were leftover from the night before and so on
and..."
"I think I get the gist, Steve. I'm going to leave my
cell phone number with you. After you drop Raavi off
at his home, give me a call. Possibly we can work
something out for making up for lost time today?"
"Sure. That would be okay."
Verraros let Steve off on the respect, figuring he
would be making up for it tonight.
"Very good. You can get dressed now, Steve."
"Okay."
Going to the table, Verraros began putting papers in
his briefcase, closing up his own laptop, as Steve
went about the chore of putting himself back together.
"Okay. Well, bye sir."
"Oh, Steve?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You will come right to my place, after giving Raavi
car service."
"Your place, sir?"
"It will be too late to come back to the office."
"Oh. Right."
"Call me."
"I will."
Walking out, Steve had a little let down. Actually,
tonight he wanted to chill out and watch the hockey
game. As he walked to the office he shared with Rick
Rhodes, he couldn't seem to tame his erection.
Fortunately, his laptop case was large enough and
heavy in content, to press the front of his pants,
obliterating any show of his excitement.
%
Continued.....
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.